


when my mirror was broken.

by beemblebummed



Series: i'm still here - the story of Cloud Strife [1]
Category: FF VII, FF7, FFVII, Final Fantasy 7, Final Fantasy VII
Genre: Trans Character, trans!Cloud
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-05
Updated: 2016-09-05
Packaged: 2018-08-13 02:27:15
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 793
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7958764
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/beemblebummed/pseuds/beemblebummed
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>just some trans!cloud stuff because i don't see enough trans fics in general. probably gonna have multiple pieces ;v;</p>
            </blockquote>





	when my mirror was broken.

**Author's Note:**

> triggers/squicks  
> \- implied transphobia  
> \- body shaming mentioned  
> \- both of the above are depicted as wrong and inappropriate  
> \- mentions of eating

Today: the day I leave for training as a Shinra employee. I’m scared, to say the least, but I knows this is going to open up a lot of opportunities for me, specifically, being seen as what, and who I am: a _boy_. The day I really acknowledge that I was one is still a clear memory in my mind, still ever present when I think about where I’ve gotten since then. Tifa is the only one right now who knows, as far as my village goes— everyone else looks at me and sees the sweet little _princess turned queen_ , Claudia Strife, who shouldn’t be joining the army, because _she_ will ruin _her_ beautiful face. _She_ will waste _her_ feminine beauty.

 

When I had first acknowledged my true gender, I had been too scared to make such a drastic change in name that no one would take it, if I were to ever out myself to someone besides Tifa. I had always loved the sky, both day and night, but my favorite thing since I was very little was looking up and finding things in the _clouds_. It probably sounds silly, but it’s not. After so much time of getting used to it, I’ve come to realize that “Cloud” is just perfect.

 

I’m already packed and prepared to leave, my things all messily stuffed into two suitcases, and it feels like my departure can’t come soon enough. As I’m staring at the unmade bed that I will soon be leaving for a good deal of time, I hear Mama yell that lunch is done, so I close and lock my bags and head downstairs. I’m currently wearing the new binder Tifa had bought to make sure my cover wouldn’t be blown, and I pray that my mother won’t comment on how flat my chest is now.

 

Sure enough, though, the moment we sit together, Allison tilts her head at me.

 

“Baby, is that bra too tight?” she asks.

 

“No, mama, it’s fine,” I mumble. “It’s um— it’s a new product, it’s for n-normal use, and it’s also for p-people with big chests that cause bad back problems. I-if you wear them before they cause too much trouble, it’s possible to, um, prevent the pain from ever getting bad enough.”

 

Allison thinks on that for a moment, muttering a soft ‘huh’ before nodding. “Your little friend Tifa could definitely use one. I swear, she needs to get bigger _clothes_ before her chest bounces right out of her shirt.”

 

“ _Mother_ , she can’t control that,” I say sharply, “and you shouldn’t be so rude anyway. How she dresses isn’t your business.”

 

She points her fork at me accusingly, replying, “Listen, young lady, I don’t care how old you are or if you’re leaving to go be something you’re not today— when you’re under my roof, you don’t talk to me like that.”

 

I bite back the urge to say ‘sorry for stating my opinion’ and instead say a quiet ‘yes, ma’am.’ We don’t say much else for the remainder of the meal, and after helping her wash the couple of dishes used, I run back upstairs and grab my stuff, still low-key seething with rage. She talks like that all the time, about Tifa like that, about any woman with boobs bigger than hers. You show a shadow of your cleavage or more than four inches of skin in one place and my mother decides she’s suddenly the body police. I _hate_ it, and I can’t wait until she learns how to mind her own business.

 

Once I take hold of all my stuff, I hurry down the stairs again and look around for my mom. She’s outside on the porch, which I can see from the window, at which point I prepare myself for telling her goodbye. At the moment, nothing makes me happier more than leaving and getting away, signing up as _Cloud_ Strife, joining as a _boy_ , being able to be me. But part of me knows that leaving with my anger towards Mom can end badly. I don’t really want to get rid of her, to sever all ties— I hope she’ll come to learn more about these things, about me. Whether she accepts me or not, though, I don’t really care. Obviously I hope she will, but I can’t really help it if she doesn’t.

 

I take a deep breath and clear my throat. I can do this. I’ll be fine. Everything will be fine.

 

She smiles at me, tears in her eyes as I step out the door, and I find myself tearing up too. God, I really hope she still loves me after I tell her someday. I really hope she changes her view. Because I can’t change me.


End file.
